“Safiya!” Her voice rose to a shout this time. She rubbed the small of her back as she walked.
“I’m here, mistress,” Safiya said, her breath coming fast as if she had run a long distance, though she slept in a small room near Asenath’s chambers. “Is it time to send for the midwife?”
“Yes. I think so.” Asenath winced as she drew in a breath. “But gather the women quietly. I don’t want anyone to wake Zaphenath-Paneah.” There was no sense in waking her husband when the child could still take hours to come. “And don’t call on anyone who performs charms or brings amulets with them. I am not going to give birth with the gods of Egypt looking on.” Not that they could see, as Joseph had told her many times, but she didn’t want them in the same room with his child.
“But Bastet watches over the lives of mothers, my lady. Don’t you want her likeness near to protect you?” Safiya’s mouth curved into a frown, her expression clearly troubled.
“Joseph’s God will protect me.” But she still struggled to know what she truly believed. Joseph’s God was so far above them and impossible to understand. If He watched over Joseph, why had He allowed him to be sold into slavery by his own brothers? A shiver worked down her spine. Her children would never be so jealous of one another. She would not allow it.
Another pain gripped her, and she bent forward, groaning. Safiya rushed to the door and called on the guard to send for more servants. She would wake the entire household with the way she barked orders, but Asenath no longer cared. The pain was too great. How could she bear it?
She felt Safiya’s presence beside her moments later, taking her arm and guiding her about the room. “It helps to walk, my lady. The babe will shift and get into the right position if you can stand to keep walking.”
“How do you know so much? You have not given birth.” Asenath did not want to sound so harsh, but Safiya did not seem to notice.
“I have sisters. They talk about such things.” The girl patted Asenath’s arm and began to speak soft, encouraging words. “The midwife will be here soon. Do not fear, my lady.”
A knock sounded on Asenath’s door soon after. A young servant girl answered it. Asenath looked toward the door and winced at the sight of Joseph standing there, hair rumpled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Is it time?” he asked, not making a move to enter her rooms.
“I believe so, my lord,” Safiya answered for her.
Asenath could not have spoken if she had tried as pain gripped her again. When the agony subsided, she looked at her husband. “My back ached all yesterday, but it woke me with a start a few moments ago. The midwife is on her way.” She knew a man should not be near a birth, but for this brief moment she took comfort in seeing him there. “You should be sleeping. I’m sorry we woke you.”
Joseph shook his head. “I am glad to know. I slept enough.” A yawn overtook him and she doubted his words, but his smile warmed her. “I will go to my rooms and pray for your safe delivery, since there is nothing I can do to help you, my love.”
“I am grateful for your prayers.” Another wave of pain came on her slowly, gaining in strength until she could not stop the cry that came from her lips.
Joseph’s brows drew down, and she knew her misery troubled him. He hesitated in the doorway, but a moment later the midwife bustled down the hall and he stepped back to let her into the room. Asenath watched him turn toward his rooms.
Please, God of Joseph, let this baby come swiftly and be a healthy boy for Joseph’s sake. And please let me live through it to raise him.
It was the first prayer she had uttered to Joseph’s unseen God, but she meant every word. And suddenly his God did not seem so far from her. She felt a heady sense of peace fill her, and the pain in her back, though intense, became manageable.
“Let me see how far you have come,” the midwife said, interrupting her thoughts. The women helped her onto the bed, and the midwife checked to see if the baby was ready to come. “He appears to have his feet coming first instead of his head. I will attempt to turn him if you will let me.” She glanced at Asenath, who dreaded the intense discomfort she knew would come from such an action. Yet the peace of Joseph’s God remained. She nodded her assent.
The midwife pushed on Asenath’s belly and had her turn this way and that, until at last she felt the baby move. “I felt something,” she said, daring to hope.
The midwife checked her again, then pushed and prodded the apparently stubborn child until at last the babe turned. “There!” the midwife said with triumph. “He is in position. Now bring the birthing bricks.”
Her servants helped her to squat on the large bricks while the midwife moved into position to catch the child. Another wave of agony washed over her, but this time it came over her belly, not her back. Relief would come soon. Joseph must be praying for her as he had promised.
Moments later, though it seemed much longer for the pain she endured, a baby’s cry pierced the room. The midwife laughed and held up a healthy boy still covered in the blood of birth.
Asenath drew in a breath of relief, then pushed once more to complete the delivery. Safiya took the child to wash and wrap him in cloths, while the servants worked to clean and change Asenath into fresh clothing. At last the boy was placed in her arms.
“Someone must go and tell his father,” Asenath said as the infant’s mouth found her breast to suckle. The feeling of love that flowed through her at the sight and smell of this beautiful boy, her son, was unmatched to any feeling she had ever known. Tears filled her eyes. To know such love . . . She knew Joseph loved her and her parents loved her, but this helpless child . . . she could give her love to him most fully.
The door opened again as she focused on the child, and she looked up to see Joseph enter the room. He came close enough to see the child but did not touch her.
“You have a son, Joseph,” she said, stifling a yawn. She removed the boy from her breast to show him. “What will you name him?”
Joseph looked on the child with an expression of awe. “A son,” he said softly. “A beautiful son.” He wiped a tear from his eye, and she wondered if he had been weeping as he prayed for her. “He is Manasseh. It is because God has made me forget all my trouble and all my father’s household.” Joseph looked long at him. The boy’s mouth continued to move as though he were searching for his mother’s milk.
“Manasseh,” she said, pulling the boy back to her breast and looking into Joseph’s grateful gaze. “I hope he proves to do for you exactly as his name implies.”
He nodded but did not speak for a moment, as though words would not come. “In eight days we will circumcise him after the custom of my fathers,” he said.
She had always known this was his intention. “In eight days,” she murmured, nodding, though she could barely keep her eyes open.
“I will leave you until then.” He turned to go, then looked back. “Thank you, Asenath, for my son.”
She smiled. She had made him glad, but he could not know that her joy was even greater than his. He had given her a son to love. And she intended to pour her life into doing just that.
30
CANAAN, 1825 BC